Ideology of a Realist

I was born a human That’s what I was, Am, And will always be. My feet walk this Earth The seasons change I continue to age Every day. A spoon to my mouth I eat Digest. Food is fuel Yet I have no energy. I lay in bed Create pictures on the ceiling Why look out the window? It’s all the same scenery. Music feeds the soul So I turn it up loud But I’m starving I can’t hear I can’t see Only this empty room But that’s all I need No need to make friends I’m content being alone And when I die It’ll just be me Free Nothing but black I’ll lay in the grave Decompose and rot Eventually my bones Will be a pile of dust Because that’s all life is I was born to die And once it’s all over Nothing will matter. I’m tired of rhyming Deep meaning Making everything beautiful For your own pleasure So fuck poetry Because nothing Any of us say Matters.